


Black Sheep

by EchoTheStorm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 22:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoTheStorm/pseuds/EchoTheStorm
Summary: Draco Malfoy was never given a parenting manual, and Scorpius Malfoy is as far from being a Malfoy as one could get by still being a pale blond with grey eyes. But Draco’s doing fine; the Malfoy heir can’t be that much of a challenge. Right?(like ¾ epilogue compliant)





	Black Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> Really old, incomplete, fanfiction from like 2015

****Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy came out of the womb bloody and screaming bloody murder—not that it was heard over Astoria’s own screaming. One could’ve sworn that she’d been Crucio’d.

Draco had been by her side through it all, and though he turned away, squeamish at the sight of a bright red lump very well squeezing its way out of his wife’s body, Astoria had made sure that her grip and her cries of pain were present. “Present” being a iron grip that was giving him the worst cramp of his life and a scream that could rival a banshee’s.

One of the mediwitches wiped Scorpius clean, which wasn’t an easy task. Draco wasn’t sure if the amount of flailing and screaming coming from the newborn was healthy, but it wasn’t as if he knew anything about children.

With that in mind, he sat beside his heaving wife—the grip on his hand had slackened by then—watching the mediwitch handle their child with the patience of a woman who had been assisting in a nine-hour labour beginning at two in the morning.

“Here ya go,” she said, handing the shrieking, albeit clean, child over to him. “Miracle of life ‘n all that. We’re gonna bring ‘er back to ‘er room right after they—” she nodded over to the two Healers hovering over Astoria— “run some tests.” She turned away, marching towards the doors with a slight wobble in her stride, probably grateful that her shift was finally over.

Draco looked down. And there he was, all seven pounds and forty-eight centimetres. The baby— _his_ _baby_ —had quieted miraculously.

 _No wonder,_ he thought. _With that woman handling me during my first moments of life, I’d be crying as well._

Scorpius seemed to agree, burrowing his head into Draco’s upper arm. He slowly opened his eyes, and looked up. They locked gazes for the first time, Scorpius staring up at his father with wide, grey eyes. Then Scorpius started crying again.

Draco was taken aback. “What did I do!” he cried. In hindsight, it was probably the bright lights casting down on his hair. The poor thing might as well have been staring into a flashbulb.

Astoria, who by then had regained some of her strength, was eying him wearily. “I think he wants his mother,” she said. Her voice was terribly hoarse.

He handed the shrieking child over without hesitation.

“Oh, my poor baby,” she cooed once the infant was in her arms. “Yes, I know daddy’s a _scary_ man, but trust me, he’s a big softie once you get to know him.” Scorpius had quieted once again, at that point, and she began cradling him in her arms, smirking at Draco through dark, disheveled locks that he’d only ever seen on one other person.

Draco frowned at his wife, who had the audacity to look smug after nine hours of labour. But that, he reflected, was one of the things that possessed him to marry her. Well, that, and the pressure his parents had been putting on him.

He wasn’t a “big softie,” though. Malfoys were not softies.

——————— 

Draco turned out to be right, he wasn’t a softie.

He was mush at the hands of Scorpius. The soft, tiny hands that’d grip his fingers and refuse to let go; the ever-present pouty look on his face, almost demanding him to coax a smile out of him; the wide, grey eyes that took in the world with every glance.

The grey eyes weren’t unlike his, nor his father’s. Neither was the pale hair. Yes, the boy was definitely a Malfoy, and looked every bit like a Malfoy heir. Except for one minor thing.

As far as Draco knew, everyone in the Malfoy line had belly buttons that went inwards. He hadn’t put much thought into it. It was just a belly button, after all. But seventeen days after the birth, the umbilical cord stump fell out.

And there it was—the outie.

He’d stared at it oddly for a moment, then called Astoria over.

“What’s wrong?” she asked when she appeared in the doorway, clearly concerned about the wellbeing of her child, despite him being her nightly bane of existence.

“Scorpius.” Draco waved an arm over the boy, who was laying in his changing station and fixing him with an odd gaze. “He’s… he’s…”

“Yes, what?” She asked, the panic settling in. She was by his side, hovering over their child, in a matter of seconds and looking Scorpius over. “Is he alright?” She asked, moving hands all over the squirming baby.

“He’s an outie.”

At once, Astoria stopped moving her hands. She turned to face him, the look in her eyes somehow flat and murderous at the same time.

“He’s an outie? _For fuck’s—_ ”

She immediately cut herself off then with a gasp, the two staring at each other with Scorpius-wide eyes. Despite them both having mouths that were slightly more akin to a sailor’s, and the fact that Scorpius couldn’t really process words yet, the two of them had come to an agreement early-on that they’d stop swearing, for the sake of their child’s future vocabulary. The swear jar in the parlour had been marking their progress. It currently held a sickle and two knuts, which now needed to be updated.

“Don’t scare me like that!” Astoria hissed, recollecting herself quickly. She looked back down at Scorpius, who had moved his curious gaze over to his mother. “If you won’t change his diaper, Draco, I will.” Her tone didn’t leave any options. Clearly, the lack of sleep was getting to her.

“I’m on it,” Draco said quickly.

She nodded to herself and stepped towards the doorway. “I’ll be downstairs, if you can’t handle it.” There was a wicked glint in her eyes, the kind that offered a challenge.

“Astoria, please,” Draco said, unwrapping Scorpius’ diaper. “I’ve been a parent for two weeks, now. I know—” he paused as soon as he felt something wet hitting his navel. Draco glanced down.

Sure enough, the young Malfoy had found it suitable to piss on his father. Astoria snorted, then burst out laughing, the tension diffused.

“You little—” Draco bit his lip before he could say it. “You’re just lucky that this is an old shirt,” he said, resigned. Scorpius blinked up at him, then grinned. By then, his wife was in tears.

But at least he’d gotten a smile out of the boy.

———————

He wasn’t worried, not at all. So nothing happened yet, it was not a big deal. Of course not. After all, a lot of children were late bloomers. But nine years old?

Draco looked up from his desk to his son, curled into an armchair by the fireplace. His eyes were closed, and a book rested in his lap 

Astoria had wanted Scorpius to be tolerant towards muggles. Frankly, Draco didn’t argue with that decree. He wasn’t going to be dealing with the spitting image of his younger self in fatherhood, there was no way that was happening. Bless Father for putting up with him. Lucius Malfoy was intimidating, but a patient man, nevertheless.

The grandfather clock chimed in the corner of his study. Ten ‘o clock. He looked back at his dozing son.

Draco stood up from his desk, groaning as his back straightened. His mother would disapprove of his bad posture, but he couldn’t help it if he slouched when he read. And alchemical manuscripts were hard to read, with the words in tiny, scribbled ink. The worst of it was the cursive. Those wizards were geniuses, but could barely manage a legible sentence with their penmanship.

He stretched for a moment, then made his way over to Scorpius.

“Scorpius?” he murmured, gently shaking his arm. “It’s ten, you should go to bed.”

The book slipped off his lap and hit the ground. _Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark_ , the front cover read. Draco stared down at it. Scorpius was reading _that_ again? No wonder he chose to read with Draco nearby. He sighed and went back to shaking his arm, a bit harder this time.

“Scorpius, it’s time for bed.”

In his sleep, Scorpius whined, then cracked an eye open. His gaze landed on the pale hand on his arm, glowing orange because of the fire.

“Monster!” he yelped, and shoved at Draco’s forearm. In an instant, his arms were covering his face and a strong force suddenly hit Draco, knocking him onto the floor.

“Ugh! Scorpius!” Draco lifted his head, glaring at the cowering boy.

“...Dad?” Scorpius lowered his arms and peered down at his father. “Oops.”

Draco groaned, dropping his head back onto the ground. “That’s it. No more reading that.”

Scorpius was taken aback. “But—”

“You may read as many muggle books as you’d like. Just not that,” Draco clarified, getting up. He stood up, rubbing his temples. “Now go to bed.”

“Fine,” he said, easing off the chair and leaving. “Good night, dad.”

“Good night,” Draco replied to the empty room.

Well, at least he wasn’t a squib.

His back was protesting loudly. In his mind, he could picture Narcissa Malfoy chiding him lightly. _‘That’s why you should watch your posture, Draco.’_

“Yes, mum,” he mumbled, rubbing his back.

———————

Draco took in his surroundings, stunned. He hadn’t been in Platform and Three-Quarters in eight or so years. Next to him, Astoria was giving Scorpius a final hug goodbye.

“Be sure to write back, alright?” she was saying.

“Don’t worry, mum, I’ll write home every day. I promise." 

They kept talking, and Draco kept scanning the area. The nostalgia, the bittersweet memories, the mess that were his final years, it all came back to him—until the trip to memory lane took a turn for the worst.

There, a few feet away, stood an equally stunned Harry Potter. With his family. Apparently, with the way things had been so hectic lately, he had forgotten that Potter’s second child was going to be attending Hogwarts this year. That should bode well.

He hadn’t realized that they’d been having an impromptu staring contest until he gave a curt nod to Potter and looked away, busying himself with his own child.

“Scorpius,” he said, squeezing his son’s shoulder.

“Yeah, dad?” he asked.

Scorpius stared up at Draco, curious. His eyes weren’t as wide as they had been when he was younger, but they still seemed to see the world differently. Draco fished for something to say.

_“Good luck?” “Be careful around the Potter children?” “Be wary that some people may not like you?”_

“Try to make some friends,” he finally settled on. “You can’t stand alone.”

Scorpius nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“You’d better go now,” Astoria spoke up. “The train only has so many carriages.”

“Right!” Scorpius said, livening up. “I’ll write back tonight! Bye mum! Bye dad!” He scrambled away, his trunk clanking against the ground behind him. Soon, the small blond head was lost in the crowd, and the train was taking off. Some of the children were waving out of the train’s windows, to the other waving crowd consisting of of adults and children.

A jet of bright red suddenly zoomed past him, in the form of a small girl with red hair who was caught up in waving goodbye to someone on the train. She fell back eventually, and settled on standing and waving to the train, which was now a glinting red speck in the distance.

He watched her run back to her family—the Potters and Weasleys, no less. The red hair should’ve been a dead giveaway. Potter looked down at the child and grinned, then looked back up, unintentionally meeting Draco’s gaze again.

Draco had never realized how awkward staring at someone could be. Potter was looking back at him without menace in his eyes, but it made the green stare no less intense. Luckily, Astoria gave him a way out.

“Are you ready to go home?” she asked, touching his arm.

He nodded to her, his eyes snapping away from Potter’s. “Yes, let’s go." 

———————

Scorpius had done as promised, and his owl arrived late at night.

Draco didn’t explicitly tell him to go into Slytherin, but he did keep reminding him the past few days that Slytherin wasn’t that bad, and made sure to remind him of his family history. At any rate, he was just thankful that his son didn’t get Sorted into Hufflepuff.

 _“I was Sorted into Ravenclaw!”_ the letter read. At that point, Draco had to stop there and stare at fireplace to think things over.

Astoria, who had been reading over his shoulder, plucked the letter out of his hands and continued reading. Something made her smile halfway through, and when she was done, she placed the letter on Draco’s lap. “You should keep reading,” she said, patting his thigh. “I’m going up to bed.” She turned away, clearly amused by something.

He eventually picked up the letter, albeit wearily, and began reading again. It didn’t take long after that for Draco to discover what had amused his wife.

 _“…I followed your advice, though. It was pretty easy. I made a friend! You know Harry Potter’s son? Albus, the younger one? We met on the train. He was pretty nervous about being Sorted into Slytherin, so I reiterated some of the things you told me._ _Some_ _, because you really went overboard with trying to coax me into Slytherin. (nice try, dad)_

_“Anyway, your long winded speeches worked on someone, because he got Sorted into Slytherin. I like him, he’s nice, so I hope the fact that we’re in different houses won’t get in the way of things._

_“And mum, you were right, the dorms are great. Ravenclaw’s…”_

Draco had to stop reading again. Maybe he should’ve stuck with the “Be careful around the Potter children” advice. He sighed and got himself comfortable on the large couch. The letter was only read halfway through, and it was clearly going to be a long night.

And once again, Draco was grateful that he was wealthy enough to not require a job.

———————

It should have been anticipated.

The letters home varied in length, and the topics typically shifted. The only thing that remained consistent was the ever faithful mentioning of the Potter child.

At this point, he knew that they shared most of their classes, a “stroke of luck,” according to Scorpius, and Draco knew that what was written in the letters never mentioned all of the shenanigans they two had gotten in. _Shenanigans_ , because there were bound to be when a Potter was involved. Though, he and Astoria had only received three letters from the school, so it was already better than Draco had anticipated.

The worst of them was the Christmas fiasco, in which Scorpius had all but begged to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays. Draco and Astoria had allowed it because, as much as they had wanted to spend Christmas with their son, they cared about his happiness. And they didn’t want their only child to become a hermit. Whatever had transpired involved the pair of Scorpius and Albus Potter, Weasley and Granger’s daughter, the goading of the eldest Potter son, a handful of products from the Weasley joke shop, and one of the school’s Christmas trees. And the Astronomy Tower. There may have been a house elf involved as well, but the school had never found any evidence for it. Draco had written to his son, demanding an explanation; Scorpius had replied, in a long, detailed letter, but he had lost his son’s logic after the words: “mainly for science.”

What Ravenclaw was doing to him, Draco had yet to understand. Though he wasn’t sure if it was his son’s House or his apparent best friend that were leading Scorpius astray. The two of them were inseparable, after all.

Which was why he was standing in the doorway, two days after Scorpius had come home for summer break, greeting Potter and his son.

“Al!” said Scorpius, from behind Draco. He moved towards the doorway, then looked back at Draco. “Mum said that he could come over, right mum?” He shouted that last bit into the house.

“Yes,” Astoria’s voice rang from the depths of their home. “Do come in, I’ve made lemon meringue.”

With that, Scorpius grabbed the Potter child’s hand and dragged him into their home, leaving him alone. With Potter. 

Draco was hoping that Potter would be one of those busy fathers who would just drop their kids off and take off, but of course, the Saviour was one of those incredibly involved fathers; Draco should’ve expected nothing less. And he had three children. Draco thought about it, and decided that he was annoyed that he was once again outdone by Potter even after nearly twenty years of not seeing him.

They must’ve stood there for a full minute in complete silence. Potter was dutifully looking anywhere but at him. Draco, on his part, was looking him over.

His hair as disastrous as he remembered it being, but slightly longer now, as it brushed his shoulders; the scar was barely visible through his bangs; he at least changed the hideous frames he'd worn in his youth, and was now wearing a slimmer, more rectangular pair. Looking anywhere near his eyes was a mistake.

“Hi,” Potter said, his eyes darting up to meet his.

“Hello,” Draco replied.

 They would’ve stood there in more silence, Draco was sure of it, but a voice behind him spoke:

“Do come in and close the door, I don't want flies coming in." 

Draco jumped, and whirled around to face Astoria.

She continued to address Potter. “Scorpius and your son are in the kitchen, eating. Would you like some lemon meringue?”

They both eyed Potter, curiously.

“I…” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Alright. Thank you very much.”

“No need to thank us,” Astoria said nudging Draco aside to give Potter room to walk in. “Scorpius loves spending time with Albus. It’s only right. We can eat in the parlour, as to not bother the boys. It’s a shame Ginny didn't come along, we could’ve all caught up with each other. Well, there’s always next time.”

The two of them made their way through the house, Astoria using her natural charm to ease the tension. Draco shut the door and trailed behind, grateful that he had Astoria for support.


End file.
